Defining Moments
by jsdeanis
Summary: Seven steps on Mal's path.


Some M/I but mostly Mal. Deleted scene from the movie is fleetingly referred to - just after the crew have discovered the origins of Reavers Mal and Inara go outside and have mini-breakdowns followed but mutual reassurance ;) 

His life since the valley has lead him to this...

Title: Defining Moments  
Author: Jules  
Summary: 7 steps to Serenity. This maketh the man.  
Rating: PG-13  
Spoilers: Serenity. Set during the movie. One deleted scene between Mal and Inara on Miranda referred to.  
Disclaimer: Not mine, more's the pity!

A.N. Mal's voice is a very hard one to write and I have the handicap of not only being a Brit, but being a Cockney Londoner, so I had a lot of problems with this fic and doing justice to the quasi-western style of the show. I did my best but I think I'll admit defeat and stick with writing Inara from now on, or maybe try my hand at Simon - who knows! Anyway, for all that I hope it works :)

Yes; the 'Moments' are meant to be capitalized - I think they deserve it!

Thanks to Chaz for the beta (so long ago now - this has been languishing on my hard drive for a while now!). Mistakes are still my own.

Also thanks for the reviews of my past fic - can't quite figure out how to reply on ffnet but they were appreciated!

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He's come to recognize the Moments. The seconds that change his life for the better or for the worse, that shake him up and rearrange his life with little concern for his wants or needs or safety. In the past they'd snuck up on him, blinded, hurt and broke him. On occasion they'd even healed him. This time is different. It is his choice, his purpose, his plan; he would not go quietly into the black - he aimed to misbehave.

He could feel it building: a rush of adrenalin heightening his senses, the anticipation, the dread. His life on a knife's edge, the whole 'verse poised and determined to change. These are the moments he can see the future clearer than the little albatross, it's all as plain as day and each revelation's damn near rushing to make his own cursed acquaintance.

He'd sensed It coming, felt it in his bones and the tinglin' of old scars. Had known It approached as the preacher's last breath grazed his cheek, felt It as the blood on his face dried and all around him bodies cooled. His feet had been set on a path towards Miranda.

He'd held Inara in the calm before the storm, one hand cradling her cheek, the other at her nape, fingers twining in her hair. He'd felt her shudder as the foundations of her life collapsed and her faith fell to ruin. He'd shored her up, heart to racing heart, and breathed her in. His ears still rung with screams and dark confessions, and, surrounded by the apathetic dead in the awful stillness, he'd felt his resolve forming, solid in his gut and more than a little nauseating but it was real and sure and terrifying and right. He'd felt the universe inhale and pause, waiting for him to decide.

In his memories the first Moment was set to the backdrop of Alliance planes blotting out the sky above the Valley, engines smotherin' the cries of the injured, the prayers of the dying. The memory of it lingered, replayed in his mind during his darkest waking moments and re-enacted every night during endless, haunting dreams. It was the day his faith died, fled with the souls of thousands lost to war, forgotten and forsaken in the valley of the dead.

With his loss of hope, it had fallen to Zoe to pick up the pieces of his broken self, to pull him up and cram the jagged shards together. To hope he'd heal true. She had dragged him forward, given him focus, reminded him that they both lived and set him on a path he'd walk for years to come. Survival. Get through each day, put one foot in front of the other and just keep moving. Keep breathing and try not to drown in bitterness.

The second Moment was glorious, had stolen his breath and his heart and his soul and there was no turning back; freedom and shelter in a beaten-up old Firefly. He'd seen possibilities and refuge in the old girl and devoted all the love his broken heart had left to her care. True love glimpsed across a crowded space yard; he'd ignored the salesman's desperate pitch and walked towards her. When the cargo-bay doors were pried open, he'd not noticed the stench or the rust; he'd been blinded by love. This would be home.

The third was heralded with a giggle. He'd noticed the flirting, noted her absences from his side were becoming more frequent but hadn't thought much of it. He'd long ago ceased thinking of Zoe as a woman; he'd seen her naked hundreds of times of course, life in the military during wartime denied the very notion of privacy. They'd been jammed together in ditches and foxholes, lived in each other's pockets for years, so he knew she had all the necessary womanly attributes and the like but he'd never really paid it any mind. He'd seen her materialize from the darkness, slit a purple belly's throat and rifle through his supply pack all in deadly silence. He'd heard her trade songs and tall tales during early training, heard her cuss out a fool-brained officer more than once. He'd heard the painful exhalation of a fellow browncoat when she kneed him in the groin after he'd drunk too much cheap rice wine and become grabby. He'd never seen her let a man slap her ass and then just giggle.

He'd hated it, carrying on about shipboard romances and split loyalties, he had sulked and complained, wanting nothing to change until Zoe had enough and set him straight. It was then he'd realized life was moving on even out in the black, and there he was still trapped in the past. He'd never left the valley, he carried it with him every day, relived it every night, clutched it close to his heart and used it to keep the rest of the 'verse at bay. Zoe had learned to move on. She didn't forget, he knew that, but somehow she found the strength to risk again. He'd never apologized, but he'd stood by her side as she and Wash made their vows.

The afternoon his crew became his family was acknowledged as the fourth Moment. He'd made his peace with the expansion of his unit when his best friend married his ship's pilot, but it wasn't until little Kaylee had, with a beaming smile lighting up the kitchen, unveiled his molded-protein birthday cake that it became obvious. Despite his best efforts and protests, he had come to care for the people on board. Well, except maybe Jayne.

The fifth he felt as a shiver up his spine. He'd thumped down the stairs into the dining room after another restless night prowling Serenity's walkways, to find everyone seated and breakfast served. As he'd watched in awed disgust as Jayne inhaled his food, Inara had passed him a cup of coffee. She'd been aboard a month but as frequently as he'd invaded her personal space, they'd both taken pains not to touch, an instinctive defense against a vague, unverbalized threat.

He'd known from the start, from the very second she'd fired off a scathing response to his first childish taunts, that he should stay away. He'd enjoyed the sparring too much; his hands had itched to tweak her veil, to throw her off balance and wait for her return volley, to play with her and ruffle her composure as surely as she messed with his.

She'd been trained to recognize the dangers and had withdrawn, each of them wary of the other. It had been only the briefest of touches, a fleeting brush of fingertips as a dented tin mug changed hands but he'd felt it from head to toe like a live wire to his nervous system and a more effective wake-up call than any amount of caffeine. They didn't touch again for months, but he couldn't stop himself barging into her shuttle or finding excuses to argue with her. This time when he'd seen the possibilities, he found he couldn't bring himself to take the chance. He fumbled the moment and had to live with the consequences.

There was a kick to a lid of a box. Then there was a naked girl. Before the echoes of his bemused exclamation faded, all hell broke loose. This was the sixth.

He hadn't needed the shepherd to point out that each of these moments informed the next. Each had an effect, taught him how to adapt and survive. The seventh Moment brought him full circle. He had a belief, as strong as any that had called him to that war long ago, and now he had a crusade. He watched as the Moment ensnared each of his crew, witnessed the determination spread through his family. They would give the victims a voice. The universe exhaled and Wash set Serenity on her new path. He guaranteed the Alliance wouldn't see this one coming.

Fin - Please R&R!


End file.
